


One of a Kind

by zavocado



Series: Go Your Own Way [7]
Category: Glee
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Future, Bullying, Foster Parents, Future Fic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zavocado/pseuds/zavocado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After becoming licensed foster parents two years after Evan is adopted, Kurt and Blaine don't expect to find a suitable match for their family for a long time. But right after Evan's thirteeen birthday, a call comes in for a young boy named Oliver that the Hummels can't refuse. GYOW Extended Universe, future!Klaine, AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And so the journey continues! This one is set two years after Evan is officially adopted by Kurt and Blaine, so June 2024 as far as the time line goes. This is basically Oliver's big introduction into the verse and I've split it into two parts, the next of which will be up... some time this weekend most likely.
> 
>  
> 
> So enjoy another little peak into their future for now! The next one shot I do for this will most likely be back in their college or high school days.
> 
> And here's a headshot of Oliver, age 11:

Mornings were hectic, even after Evan's school year ended at the beginning of June. Saturdays in particular were rough for Kurt. He was usually up first, more often than not by choice, making coffee, running through his skin care routine, and cleaning himself up for a long morning spent on the sidelines of a soccer field, cheering himself hoarse.

Today was much worse than most Saturdays were. He was frazzled with a throbbing ache between his eyes that curved along his eye sockets to his temples. Migraines weren't uncommon for him when he was getting close to one of his company's due dates, and the next one was set for the following Tuesday, but it still irked him. Evan's final tournament was scheduled to run all morning and well into the afternoon.

It hadn't helped that Blaine had been adamant about keeping him up all night. By the time he entered the kitchen, squinting to keep the amount of light reaching his eyes to a minimum, his hair was dangling limply from the number of times he'd run his hands through it. The first pot of coffee went start into his belly before he started on a simple breakfast and by the time the last slices of toast popped up Evan was trampling down the stairs, slinging his bags of soccer gear onto the table. As Evan hopped onto one of their island stools and began wolfing down everything in sight, Kurt turned the toaster back on and began making more.

Ever since Christmas, Evan had been eating nonstop and, as a newly-minted thirteen year old, Kurt wasn't that surprised. Their son was still skinny and very short for him age, slowly catching up to his peers, but definitely more solid and filled out than he'd been three years ago at the home. Kurt knew it was only a matter of time before the real grow spurts began, especially if the number of shoes they'd gone through for him in the last six weeks was any indication. It was a daunting thought that, after only three years of loving and knowing him, Evan was already on his way to growing up.

A squawking hiccup rumbled up out of Evan as he paused between bites of toast and cereal. It was his latest tic, only appearing a few mornings ago, and while Evan seemed to shrug the noise off, this one definitely didn't do anything for Kurt's migraine.

"Still masquerading as a parrot, I see," Blaine greeted, shuffling into the kitchen with a loud yawn.

He planted a whiskery kiss on Evan's tangled curls as he passed then looped his arms around Kurt and pulled him in tight. Relieved, but head still throbbing dully, Kurt snuggled into his embrace and accepted a prickly kiss of his own on the lips.

"Morning, handsome," Blaine murmured, lining Kurt's sharp jaw with playful pecks of his lips that reminded Kurt of several other kiss lines Blaine's lips had drawn over his body last night.

It tickled a lot to be kissed by Blaine these days. When summer hit and Blaine wasn't teaching in the city, he tended to forget about shaving for most of the week. Most days Kurt didn't mind, and if he was quite honest, the rough stubble was definitely a turn-on for him, but he drew the line at the bushy beard Blaine had infested his face with last summer. That was not something he wanted anywhere near his skin when he was convinced a family of mice had taken up residence in the thick growth.

Kurt was still leaning into Blaine's strong embrace when the doorbell rang. Evan gave a holler and bolted out of the room to let his soccer team mate, Ryan, in and Blaine rubbed Kurt's neck and shoulders firmly.

"You're so tense," Blaine said in concern, eyes flickering teasingly. "Long night?"

"You damn well know it was," Kurt grumbled as Blaine laughed against his neck. " _Someone_ decided he wanted to tease several orgasms out of me until _dawn_."

"I know you enjoyed it, babe," Blaine quipped, voice slightly husky as he smiled. "The stains you left on the sheets are plenty proof of that." A playful nip brushed Kurt's chin before Blaine's eyes softened as Kurt wilted back against the counter. "You wanna stay home today? Evan won't mind, and it's the first leg of their tournament so it's a long day of game after game… "

"You sure?" Kurt asked uncertainly as the sound of cleats clattering along the hardwood came closer. The noise was almost thunderous in his head and he groaned. "Nope, you're definitely going to be sure about that suggestion now. I need something for my migraine and then a long nap."

Evan and Ryan rushed in with shouts of laughter and the swinging of another big soccer bag. Blaine nudged Kurt down towards the closest chair and went to get aspirin and a glass of water.

"Dad?" Evan asked, looking worried. "You look kinda funny."

Kurt glanced up and found his son and his friend watching him closely. There was absolutely no way he'd admit the truth about what had kept him up or admit to Blaine that he might be on the verge of getting too old for all-nighters after a sixty hour work week, but he did his best to hitch up a convincing smile.

"Didn't sleep so well," Kurt explained, thanking Blaine as he handed over the water and the aspirin. "I think I'm going to stay home today and let you guys have a wild adventure without me, okay?"

Evan frowned, but nodded, looking slightly disappointed but with enough understanding in his gaze to not make a fuss. After giving him a fleeting hug, Evan and Ryan hoisted their bags up and began the difficult task of lugging them out to the Range Rover. Blaine lingered in the kitchen, stepping up behind Kurt and massaging his shoulders.

"You want to meet us for the usual celebratory dinner or do you want me to bring something home?" Blaine questioned, his fingers pressing firmly against a knot in Kurt's neck. "God, you're tense. You'd think a good fuck would have loosened you up… "

Kurt snorted despite his headache and swatted at Blaine's hands. "I can't believe you're still using that line after fifteen years."

"Don't fix what isn't broken," Blaine purred against Kurt's ear. "So yes or no on dinner?"

After a few moments of debate, Kurt said, "I'll call you after my nap and see how I feel. I could just stay in for the day. Maybe have Lily over, work on the nursery a little more… "

"She was quite cross with you the other night," Blaine said with a grin as he wrapped his arms around Kurt's shoulder and rested his chin on one side. "Her feet are all swollen because, and I quote, 'Kurt's sperm dumpling is the size of an overripe watermelon."

"Sperm dumpling?" Kurt echoed in amusement, thinking about his sister-in-law, a year out of college and their very persistent and willing surrogate. Blaine and he had both agreed years ago that they'd wanted at least three children, and while they'd been a licensed foster home for several months now, they'd yet to find a good match for the same age range as Evan. When Lily and Evan had sat them down with the suggestion of having a child that was biologically Kurt's (and technically Blaine's niece or nephew by blood), they'd both been surprised, but it was almost eleven months since that discussion and Lily was closing in on her sixth month of the pregnancy.

"She's pretty creative when she's cranky," Blaine reminded him. "Then she booted me out because Adrian came home and she was horny. Knew I liked him better than that _Trevor_. Do you remember that tool?"

" _Blaine–_ "

"Well, it's true– "

"Papa! We're gonna be _late_!"

"Not as late as Lily– "

"Oh, my god, get out of here," Kurt snapped, burying his grin in his hands as he tried to stop himself from laughing out loud and making his migraine far worse than it already was.

"I'm going," Blaine grumbled, hands raised in defeat. He paused before stepping away, planting a soft kiss on Kurt's temple. "I love you. Feel better."

"Love you, too."

The boys both cheered a few seconds later and then Blaine's loud, energetic voice was hollering before the door snapped shut. Kurt slumped down against the kitchen table's cool surface, eyeing the bottle of aspirin as he shut his eyes and groaned in discomfort.

He would have something quick to eat, take some aspirin, and then curl up in bed – the one that Blaine would have definitely changed before coming downstairs this morning if he knew what was good for him. Fifteen minutes later, Kurt was back upstairs in sweatpants and Blaine's old, fluffy Berklee hoodie. To his relief, all the bedding had been changed and, as he burrowed himself down under the blankets, he thought longingly of having his husband there to snuggle with.

* * *

The gentle buzz of his phone on the night-stand roused Kurt several hours later. He was confused to find a big fluffy blanket from the living room draped over him and the bedroom door open. For the moment, he ignored the absurdity and snatched his phone up, surprised to see their foster care agent, Marie, was calling him.

"H- h- hello?" Kurt yawned, curling his legs up into the cocoon of heat he'd been lying in. He was thankful to find that his migraine was gone now, even if his head still felt a little heavy.

"Kurt? It's Marie. I'm– are you still sleeping?" she asked in surprise as Kurt yawned loudly again.

Marie was a sweet woman, very friendly and easy to talk with. She had no problems treating Kurt and Blaine as if they were her closest friends and it was the main reason they'd picked her as their agent. They'd wanted someone they could be relaxed and open with and that was easy with her.

"Migraine this morning," Kurt mumbled. "Stayed home and took a nap while Blaine took Evan to his tournament."

"Aw, I'm sorry, are you feeling better? I used to get terrible migraines in college, made finals week a nightmare," Marie said sympathetically. There was a flurry of shuffling papers in the background as Kurt rubbed his eyes and sat up.

"No, I'm feeling much better actually," he admitted, stretching as he slumped back against the pillows. "I'm probably going to finish up the embroidery in the baby's room."

"Any chance you two will have room for a third?"

Kurt was humming softly to himself as he yanked the blankets up to his chin when his brain processed the question she'd just asked. He must have misheard. They'd been licensed for months and hadn't even had a potential, and yet– His stomach leap, bouncing on a spring board as he sat up and clutched the phone tighter.

"A t- third? Are you– you have a child that'll– "

"Oliver. He's eleven and been with one of our centers in Buffalo since he was a few days old," Marie informed him, her voice slipping into the tone she used when she was reading off one of the children's charts. "He's been jumping around from foster home to foster home since he was a few years old. Very sick baby, lots of ear infections and the like, so they didn't give him to a foster home until he was a little older."

"Okay," Kurt replied, digesting all of the sudden information. Already his heart was swelling at the thought of the boy, the idea that they'd finally found someone who wanted them just as much as they wanted him.

He could tell there was obviously more to the story behind this boy, perhaps he had an unfit mother he'd been taken from right out of the hospital and was, until this point, still hoping to be returned to her if her situation changed. That was typical of a lot of children in foster care from his understanding, though it seemed odd that eleven years had passed without a full decision and court order being made about him being returned to his biological parents.

"His biological parents?" Kurt asked, pushing the blankets off of him and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The door creaked open a little more across the room and he briefly glanced in its direction, seeing Lily's round belly pop through the door before the rest of her followed.

"No records on them. He was left on the doorstep of the children's' home with a note asking that he be given to a good home," Marie said, and this time her voice was soft in a way that told Kurt she wasn't reading a file anymore. She must be quite familiar with Oliver's case. He could hear the frown in her voice, even though her speech barely faltered. Cases like this, even ones like Evan's, were children she was accustom to dealing with a daily basis and, as well as she might know the child personally, she always did her best to stay professional.

"I'll have to talk to Blaine before we agree," Kurt said finally. "I'm sure he will," he added, "I just want to give him the time to hear the news. If we agree, will he move in with us immediately or will we meet with him first?"

"Of course, and he's a standard move-in case because of his age and familiarity with the process," Marie said, shuffling her phone a bit and then the click-clapping of someone typing echoed against Kurt's ear. "I'll send the locked record to your email, okay? You'll need all of your passwords and codes to access it, but I think you're really going to love him."

"Does he know you want to place him with us?" Kurt asked as Lily dropped down beside him, one hand rubbing over the side of her belly.

"He's returning to the Buffalo center this afternoon from his previous foster home and I've already sent all of your information over for him to read through," Marie answered as she continued typing. "If you all agree that it seems like a good match, he can move in as early as Monday."

"I think we might need a little more time," Kurt replied nervously. "We have Evan to consider, too, and I know he'd love to have someone his age around, but I really want us to sit down with him first, especially if Oliver's situation is difficult."

"No, no, that's fine, I understand completely. You two have a lot going on right now with planning for the new baby and I–" Marie cut off in a way that made Kurt certain she was biting her lip. "Oliver is a really sweet boy, Kurt. All the workers at the center adore him, but he's very quiet. That's part of the reason the last home never filed for adoption. He rarely talked, one or two word answers, and so they thought he didn't like them. It's not that he can't talk," she hastened to add, clearly picking up on Kurt's concerned frown, "he just doesn't want to. Or isn't comfortable with the people he's been placed with so far. He's very smart, so I think that's part of it. He doesn't want to get attached with people who aren't in it as a long-term commitment. You and Blaine have been so wonderful with Evan, and I have this gut feeling that you'll bring Oliver out of his shell, too."

His heart tugged in his chest again as Kurt rubbed his chin.

"I'll call Blaine and give him a heads up and we'll get back to you by Monday morning," Kurt decided. "He's sounds wonderful," he added, smiling softly. "I really can't wait to meet him."

"Thank you, Kurt," Marie said. "I look forward to hearing from you two."

After he hung up, Kurt set his phone back on the night-stand as Lily shifted beside him.

"They found a match?" she asked, still rubbing over her belly. "I think you two are going to have another soccer player. She hasn't stopped kicking in two _days_."

"A boy, Oliver," Kurt clarified. "He's eleven. And don't say she," he added. "There's no need to gender my baby before it's born."

"You two are having a rambunctious baby girl and that's that," Lily huffed, groaning as another round of kicks hit her ribs. "Ugh, I almost regret volunteering for this."

"It was your idea," Kurt reminded her.

"No, it was your _son's_ idea _,_ " Lily corrected and Kurt was shocked.

"Evan? Really? I can't picture him thinking up this," he gestured to Lily's stomach, "on his own."

"Well, he demanded that I tell him the best way for him to have a baby brother or sister and this was the conclusion I arrived at first," Lily grunted, pushing off from the bed forcefully."I always planned on offering one day when you two looked into it, anyway. Just speeds things up a little."

Kurt quickly pressed his hand into the small of her back and helped ease her onto her feet.

"Thanks," Lily muttered. "Do you want to call Blaine? He said earlier that you wanted to work on the nursery, so I've been fixing up a few things in there while you slept."

"Yeah, I don't think he'll mind an interruption from all the cheering," Kurt agreed.

He watched Lily waddle out of the bedroom before reaching for his phone once more and dialing Blaine's number. On the second ring, Blaine picked up and a roar of voices rumbled through the device.

"– get him, guys! Come on, pass! Hey, babe," Blaine said, his voice dropping from a shout to a soft, easy tone. "How are you feeling?"

"Marie called," Kurt said without preamble. "She's found a match."

"Sh– really? Is it– Kurt, did she say–" Static crackled through Blaine's excited voice and a few moments later the cheers faded away. Blaine must have hurried away from the stands full of other parents and to somewhere quieter. "How old?"

"Eleven," Kurt told him, his stomach flopping around at the thought of Oliver. "His name's Oliver and– Blaine, he's sounds wonderful. He really does."

"What's his history like?" Blaine asked, his voice a little nervous.

It wasn't that they weren't prepared to take in a child with emotional issues or traumatic events in their past, but Kurt knew Blaine was thinking about the arrival of the new baby in the fall and Evan's potential reaction to a possibly violent or hostile child.

"He's been in the system since he was a few days old. She's sending us his files," Kurt answered. "She said he's really quiet and has been shuffled around foster homes, but… it's just a feeling, Blaine, but he sounds like such a good match– "

"He does," Blaine agreed softly and Kurt could hear the hopeful smile lingering on his lips. "We're going to have a really full house come October."

"Yeah, it looks like it," Kurt agreed. Then he hesitated, because they'd discussed the idea of adopting another child with Evan before they'd become a licensed foster home, but the possibility of another child was very different from the reality of it, especially for a thirteen year old. "Do you want to read over his file tonight before we mention anything to Evan?"

Blaine was silent for a few moments before he answered, "Yeah. I want to be positive that we're ready for this before we get his hopes up. It's going to be an adjustment for him after having his own room for two years."

The thought hadn't even occurred to Kurt until Blaine mentioned it and it made Kurt feel anxious. "Do you think he'll be upset about sharing his room? I mean, I know he said he'd love a brother his age, but… I remember being thirteen and not wanting anyone in my room."

"He's shared a room with six other boys before he came to us," Blaine reminded him, but he sounded unsure as well. "I think it'll depend on how well they get along, or if they do." He sighed roughly. "I'd hate to bring Oliver into our home only for him and Evan to hate each other. Getting both of their hopes up like that… I don't know if I could bear hurting both of them like that."

"Me either," Kurt mumbled weakly. The suddenly excitement that had come with Marie's call was slowly sinking away as all of the potential problems began materializing in his mind. They barely knew Oliver and already the idea of giving him false hope and breaking his heart made Kurt's stomach churn.

"Look, the game's almost over," Blaine said after a few more contemplative minutes. "I'm gonna go round Evan up and let him sleepover at Ryan's, so we can talk everything over tonight."

After agreeing and exchanging "I love yous," Kurt ended the call and stood up. For now he was going to help Lily in the nursery and ignore the jittery thoughts in his head. Blaine would be home in a few hours, they'd all have dinner together, and then they'd sit down and read through Oliver's information together.

* * *

Blaine arrived back at the house two hours later with bags of Chinese takeout and Evan's soccer bags. After planting the idea in Ryan and Evan's heads on the trip back from the soccer league fields across the island, he let the boys do the rest of the work, calling Ryan's parents and begging, and then dropping them off at the other boy's house on the way back to their own. By the time he'd left, several of the kids other friends were on their way over, too, ready for a long afternoon of swimming and soccer in the backyard.

"Kurt? Lily?" Blaine hollered as he toed the garage door closed and headed into the kitchen.

There was no answer from upstairs, but Blaine knew they were both here. The first thing he'd done after he'd left this morning was call his sister and ask her to check in on him and then given her his full permission to raid their fridge to her stomach's content. She'd been unable to say no to that.

Blaine paused, listening for a moment until he heard the shifting of someone upstairs. He grabbed a few drinks from the fridge and carried the food upstairs. When he pushed the door to the future nursery open, he was surprised to find how much had changed since he'd been in there a few days ago.

"Wow," he breathed, staring around at the newly painted crib and the wall hangings that Kurt was placing just right. "I can't believe you got so much done."

"Well, all the walls are dry since you finished that a few days ago," Kurt commented, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he straightened the wooden giraffe cut out on the wall until it was perfect.

"Oh, god, is that Chinese?" Lily grunted, shoving herself out of the rocking chair and thundering towards Blaine, who held the food out before she could knock him down for it. "General Tso's, yes!"

As Lily waddled back towards the rocking chair with an entire bag of takeout, Kurt sauntered over and slid his hands around Blaine's hips and into the back pockets of his jeans.

"Hey, tiger," he murmured, pecking him on the lips and smirking. "Bring me anything good or did you just want to keep your sister and the baby happy?"

"Oh, I've got plenty of things I've brought you," Blaine quipped, arching back against Kurt's hands until Lily made a noise of protest.

"Seriously, do you two ever quit?" she grumbled, popping open a container of fried rice and digging in. "It's a good thing you're both men or you'd have more children than you could count."

Blaine snorted as Kurt grinned against his neck. "Aw, and Blaine would probably look so cute with a little pregnant belly."

With a squawk of protest, Blaine pulled away from his husband, frowning and looking disgruntled. That was not something he wanted to imagine. The very idea of something – some _one_ – growing inside of him and then coming out of a hole that didn't exist was terrifying.

"No, way, you can carry them," Blaine argued, handing Kurt the second bag of food with his favorites and another container of General Tso's for Blaine.

"Oh, shut up, I'm already doing it for both of you," Lily quipped loudly before digging back into her food.

Kurt and Blaine ate on the floor together, backs against the little dresser as Lily rocked and stuffed herself in the rocking chair. They sat there for a long while, laughing and discussing arrangements for the little room, and the names they'd settled on a few weeks ago.: Anna Rose for a girl and Cole Alexander for a boy. Originally they'd each thought about using the other's mother's name for a little girl, but after a long discussion they decided against it. They didn't want to saddle their daughter with two names that held so much importance in their hearts. The last thing they wanted to do was make her think she had to live up to her grandmothers or that they only saw them when they looked at her.

By seven o'clock, Lily left, wishing them good luck on their new potential foster child. They showered and then curled up in bed, Kurt's laptop resting on their knees as they filled out all of the identity and access information to access Oliver's file.

"I wonder if there's a picture," Blaine murmured, tucking his chin over Kurt's shoulder and resting his arms on his husband's stomach. Kurt wiggled between his legs as he started the download, leaning back in his embrace.

"Is it weird that I'm scared about this?" Kurt asked him softly. "It's just so sudden and… what if we hurt him? Or Evan? What if we make the wrong decision?"

"Hey, no, we won't, okay? We've got a lot to talk about before we even give this a chance, and you said yourself he sounds wonderful, Kurt," Blaine reminded him, threading his fingers through Kurt's damp bangs. "I'm sure we can take a few more days if we really need to, or we can always say no. We do have a lot going on right now between Evan, the new baby coming, your job, my job, the store, and everything in between. But let's read first and then decide."

"Right," Kurt murmured as the download finished. "Okay."

Blaine watched him extract the files and then open the folder and then the file. The first page was similar to others they'd seen over the last few years and much like Evan's. There were all of the boy's basic information: full name, biological parent information (which was blank), current age, height, weight, and a handful of other notes.

"Hmm," Blaine said, reading the information over Kurt's shoulder. "He's almost as tall as Evan; he won't like that."

Kurt shook his head, but smiled at Blaine's words. "He'll get over it, and his feet are almost as big as ours. He won't be short for much longer."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Blaine groaned as Kurt scrolled to the next page.

There was a long list of medical check-ups, childhood sicknesses and boxes for allergies and anything else that might be necessary for a parent to know.

"Allergic to penicillin," Kurt remarked, running his finger over the screen under the words. "That's got to make medical treatment more complicated, doesn't it?"

"Had a lot of ear infections when he was a baby, didn't he?" Blaine replied, pressing a dry kiss to Kurt's neck. "Seems like he's been all right since then. Had chicken pox when he was five, a few flus, but nothing out of the ordinary."

"Yeah, Marie mentioned the ear infections. She said he wasn't put into a foster home for a while because of that," Kurt said, scrolling further down.

It was the next page that Blaine had really been interested in. A long list of previous foster homes and the dates Oliver had been there appeared, followed by each home's comments and notes on him. They read through it all silently, page after page from the seven different foster homes until Blaine's head was buzzing with all of the information. It wasn't that there was a lot, or really anything worrisome that stuck out when he thought about Evan's history and how the two would mesh, but the poor boy had been shuffled around a lot in the past nine years.

"She said he was really quiet," Kurt said softly, glancing at Blaine over his shoulder. "I– and that he was smart and she thought that had to do with it. All the workers at the center say he's very sweet, but what if he doesn't like us and we all get attached and he still doesn't open up?"

"He's scared, I think, or had less than stellar experiences from his first foster homes and so he doesn't want to get attached," Blaine pondered as Kurt continued to scroll through all forms and foster home consents that had been scanned into the file. "Most of them aren't great. Just people wanting the extra money and an older kid to babysit the younger ones."

As Blaine watched the screen move, he glanced at Kurt, his lower lip sucked between his teeth. Oliver seemed like a nice young boy, very calm and quiet, but guarded, and understandably so considering the nature of his entire life. He knew without asking that Kurt was already in love with this little boy, wanted to bring him into their house and fawn over him like he did with Evan. Overall, he was a great match for them, Evan, and the addition of a baby in a few months. There was no history of violence or aggressive that could trigger Evan or upset and scare the baby, but it still worried Blaine.

Another life would be in their hands, another young boy to help and love and slowly develop a trusting relationship with. Their relationships with Evan had taken a long time and, even now, it surprised Blaine that it had all gone so well. But this boy's life was different than his own or Evan's. He was guarded, but in a different way, and the thought scared Blaine because he wasn't familiar with it or what it could mean for Oliver.

"You really want him, don't you?" Blaine asked after a few more minutes of silent thought. As he leaned forward into Kurt again, he caught sight of the screen and his heart leapt. There was a picture, a grainy, wrinkled picture that had been scanned in, but as soon as Blaine saw it, he knew there was no turning back.

Dark hair hung along his eyelashes, slightly wavy as the ends curled away from his head; pale skin and a thin, unsmiling face. He was probably nine or ten in the photograph, but Blaine had no doubts that they were going to say yes now, not when those silent, sad blue eyes were staring back at them from behind thick frames. Not when that desolate, hopeless acceptance of having nothing and nobody was staring back at him.

"He looks so sad," Kurt murmured, fingers brushing the screen by Oliver's ear. Blaine sighed, hugging Kurt against his chest as he looked on, knowing that Kurt was absolutely right and that there was more than sadness in those eyes, there was loss and a longing so powerful it made Blaine's entire body ache at the reminders it dredged up. Even two decades later he remembered how it felt to be alone in a crowded room, to have nobody around who seemed to actually care as he shut himself off in his own little world while his father drank and his step-mother started yelling over his baby sister's wails.

"We'll make a big breakfast and talk to Evan about him in the morning," Blaine decided. He didn't have to ask if Kurt wanted to take Oliver in. Their hearts and minds had been in tune for over a decade and, in moments like this, there was no need to ask what decision Kurt had arrived at because he knew it was the same as his own.

* * *

As Oliver set the last of his belongings on his bedside dresser, the pack of boys that occupied the room returned from outside. He grimaced at the noise they carried with them, like a thick cloud saturated and heavy with thunder and hail. None of them were nice; none of them were his friends. He was just an object of teasing and taunting for them.

They all paused on their ways to their own spots, glancing over at him until Oliver's skin crawled. He knew exactly what they were thinking and, as much as he hated the thought of another foster home, he really couldn't wait to be shipped off to one. Anything was better than being teased and mocked by the boys he roomed with at the center.

"Looks like someone got passed over again," the oldest of the boys, John, remarked, laughing as he flopped down onto his squeaky mattress. He was sixteen now, and not alarming huge by typical adult standards, but to Oliver, he was a giant with five years more of life and experience, and who knew (as Oliver's long faded bruises would justify) how to pack a wallop. "Doesn't surprise me. That was, what? Ten? Eleven?"

"Dunno why they still bother with you," another, Neil, remarked from across the room, eyes glinting. "Should have been obvious from the start that nobody wanted you. Even your own mother dumped you on the doorstep of this shithole."

Oliver flinched and started scanning over the stack of books on his desk, trying to block out the insults and _nonsense_ the other boys always spewed at him. They'd been saying the same thing for years, as though it wasn't something Oliver didn't already know. He knew he wasn't wanted and that was why he grew up here, but someday, when he'd suffered through another handful of houses and taken care of other people's screaming babies, he'd be off on his own and making his own choices.

The other boys continued to snicker and make rude remarks as Oliver scooped out his favorite book and curled up at the head of his bed. If they'd been smaller or younger, he might have bothered replying or swinging his fist, but they weren't. Each of them were pushing high school age or already there, with cracking voices and a foot of height on him.

"Oh, right," one finally sneered over at him as another two started up a rough pillow fight. "We forgot you don't talk. Guess there's no point in saying anything when you're nothing."

He kept his gaze fixed on the page he'd opened up to, but his eyes were focused. They always said that; always got bored with his silence and just brushed him off with what they thought was the worst possible insult. Oliver never bothered countering with a reminder that even if he was 'nothing' to them, that didn't make him as lowly and worthless as they were.

The other boys continued to horse around, growing rougher and louder, until there was a knock on the door and Oliver glanced up to see Ms. Stacey step into the room. She was one of the workers at the center and had been here since Oliver was very little. Secretly she was his favorite, even though he had only said a handful of words and phrases to her over the past seven years.

"Boys, you're all supposed to be having quiet reading time before dinner," she scolded, yanking the pillows out of several hands and shooing them towards their own beds. "Find something to read or we'll cut your activity time down tomorrow."

With grumbles and glares, the other boys scrambled around, tugging out old books and comics they had stashed about the room. As David whipped one out from under Oliver's mattress, Ms. Stacey settled down on the foot of his bed, looking serious.

_Uh oh._ What had the other guys tried to blame him for now?

"Are you up for an office visit, Oliver?" she asked gently. The tone always made him relax, warmth seeping into his limbs at how easy it was to not worry or fear anything when she was there. None of the other center workers made him feel like that, though he knew it wasn't some silly crush like John had had the last time he was here. Crushes were weird to watch happen when John was involved. Or maybe all boys drooled and acted super macho around pretty girls. Oliver wasn't sure, but he didn't think he'd ever act like that around a girl.

"Okay," he mumbled as several of the boys snorted behind their books.

They always laughed whenever he dared to speak. Oliver assumed it was because he spoke softly, and his voice was always a little hoarse because he didn't use it a lot.

"Come on, let's go before dinner," she encouraged, offering a hand to help him up.

He accepted it after a moment, and followed her from the "11 and up" boys' room, hoping that whatever she wanted to speak about meant not having to sleep in there for more than few nights. Knowing his luck, she probably just wanted to go over his last foster home again and revisit the pages they'd had him fill out about his experience. There wasn't anything bad he'd written out, despite his sole purpose at the Michaels' home being a babysitter for their triplet girls and newborn son.

As the office door clamped shut behind him, Oliver glanced around the small, stuffed room. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with file after file on all the children that came and went through the center and all of the foster homes and adoptive parents that had been here during the last handful of years. Most of it was on the computer now, catalogued and stored in a database that Oliver had glimpsed a few times, but he knew they kept these files on hand for the active cases and any cases within a certain number of years.

Ms. Stacey settled down in the little desk in the corner and waved Oliver over with a smile. He obeyed quietly, shuffled across the tiny room and plopping down onto a little wooden chair facing her.

"I know this is a little soon, but… "

Oliver's heart leapt as she slid a folder across the desk towards him. He was relieved at the sight and hoped whoever was inside was decent sounding, even though he knew it wouldn't work out. They never did for one reason or another, but anything was better than hanging around here for an extended period of time.

"I think you'll really like these two," Ms. Stacey continued kindly, and Oliver resisted the urge to roll his eyes. All of the workers said that whenever they handed him a new file, but he held back with Ms. Stacey because part of him actually believed she wasn't just saying that as part of her job. She genuinely seemed to care about all of them. "They live on Long Island, so it's quite a ways away from your usual homes, but Mrs. Terrence– you remember her from her last visit, right? Mrs. Marie? She speaks very highly of them and the boy they adopted a few years ago."

His chest gave another funny twinge at the last sentence. They'd adopted a boy already. These people were adopters, as he liked to call them; that meant they'd either be overfriendly and put-off by his silence or incredibly pushy about getting him to talk.

Without looking up, he took the folder and flipped the cover open. The first page was the standard information he was used to, giving him names, ages, occupations, and where they lived.

_Blaine and Kurt Hummel_

He frowned at the names, because he'd met with several gay couples before, but he'd never seen them share a last name. For a moment he contemplated Blaine being a woman, because he was almost certain it was androgynous, but then he skimmed down further and pushed that idea aside. Each was listed as male and both thirty years of age.

Oliver took his time reading over the information, seeing the process and dates they'd gone through with their adopted son, Evan, and wondering how that boy was doing with them. His potential foster brother had a number of disorders listed, though Oliver only glanced at them. He'd lived in houses before where children had been abused and a few with Autistic children. A boy with ADHD and Tourette's wasn't anything of worry for him.

"So what do you think, Oliver?" Ms. Stacey asked as he looked up and met her eyes.

He said nothing, as usual, thinking over what he'd read. The Hummel's were financially stable, which surprised him. Most foster couples tended to use the money they gained from their foster children for their own means instead of on the child it was intended for, but these men didn't seem like they would. There wasn't any logical reason for it and he, if they all agreed, would be the first foster child they'd ever taken in. They were each successful and had the money to put Evan into a number of soccer programs, both in and out of school. Their house was fully paid off and in a very nice part of Long Island, from what Oliver understood.

It was strange to him to read about them. They were an enigma; almost a bizarre fantasy he hadn't yet encountered that didn't fit into any of the categories he'd established over the years.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Ms. Stacey said into his silence, scrambling up and heading over to the little cabinet by the door. "Marie sent a picture of them along. It's from Evan's thirteenth birthday a few weeks ago. They like to keep her updated on how he's doing."

Nonplussed, Oliver took the photograph that was handed to him and felt another twinge in his chest, though it was much more like a small avalanche. They were all smiling, bright and honest and true. It gave him just the slightest flash of hope before he pushed it aside.

It wouldn't work. These things never did.

Ms. Stacey sat back down, and he knew she was watching him closely as he examined each face, taking in the man with the dark curls and fuzzy face, the paler, thin man with gravity-defying hair, and the small boy between them, crushed by their combined hug, but grinning broadly as the first man's cheek rested against his thick, dirty blond curls.

"They really are wonderful, Oliver," Ms. Stacey said softly after a few minutes. "And– I know you don't think any of these foster homes actually want you and I know you hate being here, too, even if you don't say it, but… Kurt and Blaine? They're the real deal, from everything I've heard, and I really, _really_ think this is going to be a great place for you. Maybe even a home and a family if you let them in a little bit."

"I– "

He was so caught off guard by her observations of him from over the years and how well she knew him that he'd almost spoken more than he had in close to a year. She'd never made a pitch like that before, no matter how great the couple had sounded on paper, and it made him wonder why. Something was different about these men, that much was obvious from this, but he couldn't begin to figure out what that difference might be.

"Okay," he whispered weakly after a few moments. "I'll go."


	2. Chapter 2

Evan eyed his father's closely after they picked him up from Ryan's. It had been a long, eventful night full of video games and mountains of junk food, but even in his half-asleep state, he was aware that they were behaving oddly. They were jumpy and smiling brighter than ever. At first he thought it was because they'd gotten laid from having the house to themselves last night, but it was different than those goofy grins.

Curious, Evan continued to watch them as they headed into the house and started making breakfast. The two men worked seamlessly in the kitchen, exchanging bowls and ingredients for a huge meal while Evan sat at the island and pretended to watch the television in the connected living room. But after an entire episode of _I Love Lucy_ reruns, Evan was annoyed that he still had no inkling about why they were so happy.

"Did you two discover some new type of orgasm last night or are you going to tell me why you're both so bubbly?" Evan finally snapped, shocking both men, and smirking when they nearly dropped the huge stack of blueberry pancakes. It served them right for being so secretive.

"Evan!" Kurt scolded, looking embarrassed and flustered. Man, he was glad he hadn't been home last night because they had definitely– "I do not want to hear you say things like that, okay? We've talked about sex, yes, because you had questions, but that is our private life and– "

"If it's so private, then you should probably be a little quieter about it," Evan grumbled before he could stop himself.

Kurt's face flooded with color, but he knew it wasn't from embarrassment this time. After years of being with Blaine, he was beyond used to having such comments thrown his way, but it was still enjoyable for Evan to toss them out when he could. His dad might be used to them from Blaine, but he was just starting to get familiar with Evan saying or even knowing about these types of things.

"Do not sass me, Evan Michael. Our sex life is private and I do not want you referencing something that personal and loving for jokes," Kurt snapped sharply, and Evan twitched a little with guilt.

After several seconds of wrestling with his squawking tic, he gave it, let the noise echo around the kitchen, and lowered his gaze to the counter. "Sorry, Dad," he mumbled. "Papa jokes about it, so I thought– "

"I knew he'd pick up that terrible habit from _you_ ," Kurt complained, his stinging glare whipping over to Blaine. "I bet Oliver will too– "

Evan perked up immediately at the unfamiliar name and the way Kurt fell silent right after it slipped out.

Oliver. He didn't know an Oliver, but by the sounds of it…

"I'm getting a brother?" Evan hollered in disbelief, his words punctuated by another squawking tic. "When do I meet him? Are we going to share a room? How old is he? Are you adopting him now or later? Does he like– "

Blaine's hand clamped down over his mouth, muffling his questions until he stopped talking and started ticking again.

"Slow down, kiddo," Blaine grumbled, sliding a plate across the counter and waving towards the food. "Let's eat and then talk."

The suggestion only deterred Evan until he had his plate piled high and several mouthfuls of food in his stomach.

"So when is he moving in– "

Kurt groaned in dismay, his fork clattering down onto his plate. Blaine grinned and pointed his forkful of pancakes at his husband as Evan beamed at the pair of them.

"This one is _your_ fault," Blaine said happily, before shoving the fork into his mouth.

"Shut up," Kurt snapped, slowly easing his fork back into his grip and taking his time cutting off a section of his pancakes.

Evan wiggled in his seat as he waited, grinning and ticking nervously as he tried to retain his questions until they started giving him answers. When Kurt remained silent, he turned his wide, hopeful eyes to Blaine, who chuckled softly.

"His name is Oliver and he's eleven," Blaine started. "We want to have a serious discussion about this with you before we actually agree to anything."

"But– this is going to be so cool!" Evan squealed, his voice crackling and making his throat ache. He frowned and glanced down. That was new.

"Having a sibling isn't all fun and games, Evan," Kurt said, looking up and meeting his gaze seriously. "Finn and I were the same age but there were still expectations that we looked out for each other. You'll be older, an example for him, and he's just like meeting a new kid at school. Just because he's been labeled as your brother doesn't necessarily mean you'll have anything in common."

Still rubbing his throat, Evan continued to frown as he mulled over his father's words. He hadn't thought of that. This boy, Oliver, wasn't just someone he could call brother someday or someone that would fit his own ideal of such a spot in his life. He was already a living, breathing person with his own likes, dislikes, and quirks. That really wasn't something he'd factored into the idea of having a brother around, and it made him pause for a minute. What if _Oliver_ didn't like him? How awkward would that be, for him to move into their house, and try to be part of their family and not like one of them?

"You're right," Evan mumbled after a few minutes. "I– having a brother would be great, but… he's his own person just like each of us is."

"Exactly," Blaine said with a nod as Evan slowly started eating again. "I think that's one of the best things for you to remember with this. Try thinking about being in his place and how scared he probably will be those first days here."

"So he's definitely moving in?" Evan said, grasping on to the implications of Blaine's words. "Like, soon, right?"

"We'd definitely like him to," Kurt said, his eyes softening. "He sounds like a wonderful boy, Evan. We just want you to be prepared for the change it'll bring to our lives and to not have overwhelming expectations for him, okay?"

"Okay, Dad," Evan agreed, trying to block out the parts of his mind that kept popping in with little brotherly expectations. "We definitely get to share a room, right? I like having my own space and all, but even now, it's still really quiet without someone else snoring."

"Yes, as long as he's okay with it, too," Kurt answered, nodding slightly as he continued to eat. "I'm not sure what we'll do if he isn't, or if– "

"We'll figure it out," Blaine said as Kurt shook his head, looking worried and nervous.

Evan frowned at the sight, because he didn't understand the fear they had. How could they be so sure of something yet so scared of it?

"It's gonna be great, Dad," Evan added after a moment. "You'll see. He'll love you guys as much as I do. I promise."

* * *

By Monday, Oliver was called back called back to Ms. Stacey's office and told that the Hummels had agreed to be his new foster family. The news did little to excite him beyond getting away from the group of boys that had been tormenting him all weekend. A series of small bruises were already blooming along his shoulder blades from being shoved about so much, and the one book he'd managed to purchase at his last foster house was now tattered, torn, and lining the hamster cage in the main playroom.

He wouldn't be sad to see this place go again, and hopefully, when he returned the others would be gone. There was a two year limit on being placed with a foster family. After that time, it was either adoption or moving back to the Center. Oliver hoped he'd manage to stay with the Hummels that long, even though he'd only done it once before. Every other house had been less than a year. If he made it to the two year mark then several of the other boys would be of legal age and gone. He'd be bigger and stronger by the time he was thirteen, too, and with any luck, they'd leave him alone or he'd be able to make them do so.

Ms. Stacey told him to pack his things for the next morning and Oliver agreed with a short nod before returning to the boys' room.

As usual, his books were knocked over and scattered, and the handful of clothes he owned had been hung from the ceiling fan that was slowly rotating and well out of reach. Briefly he wondered if Evan would be doing these kinds of things to him, as a general rule from an older boy to a younger one.

Oliver hoped not, but at least Evan was only one person, whereas there were five boys here.

Carefully he hopped up onto his bed, took his time to find his balance on the footboard, and started grabbing shirts, pants, and underwear as they swung by. It was a familiar process he went through almost daily and right now, on the brink of meeting new people he was going to live with, it was soothing. Oliver picked up his books next, checking for ripped pages or sliced bindings, before ducking under his bed and dragging his bag. He packed everything away then glanced around.

He was still alone and from the sounds outside the window he would be for quite a while. Carefully he lowered himself down, sliding under the bed towards the wall until a blast of cool air hit his face. Swiftly he pulled the air vent out and then yanked hard on the floor board above it until it popped up. A layer of dust billowed out, coating his hands and itching at his nose.

" _Achoo!"_

After several snorts and headshakes, Oliver slid up closer and pulled out the few possessions he kept hidden in there. The first that he'd only put back a few days ago was the thick, cracked leather bound journal he drew and wrote in. It was one of only two completely private possessions he had and that nobody, not even the other boys, were aware of. The second, folded up and nestled down in the floor, was an old, tattered little blanket – the one he'd been wrapped up in when he'd been dumped here eleven years ago.

For the life of him, Oliver didn't know why he kept it; maybe it was the smell of lilac perfume that still managed to cling to it or the thought that whoever had last touched it before the ground had cared more than anyone else had. He hoped his mother had left him here because she was too young to take care of him. It was a mystery he thought about quite often, but never looked into.

As he replaced the floorboard and the vent, Oliver cradled the two objects for a few minutes, wondering when they'd see their dark little cave again and why, for the first time in his memory, he hadn't left the blanket where it always was.

His journal always came along, but the blanket…

The blanket always stayed there, holding his place like his mother might have held him.

Shivering, Oliver slid back out, tucked the blanket and journal into his bag, and hugged himself. Something felt different this time, in ways and for reasons he couldn't explain. Nothing felt familiar and everything here felt distorted like he had walked back into an old crumbled photograph that no longer resembled his life.

A few minutes later the door banged open as the other boy's charged in, hooting and passing their basketball back and forth.

"Hey, look! Mouthless is leaving again!" Neil hollered, elbowing Oliver in the back as the others laughed and cheered.

"About fucking time," John called. There was a squeaky creak as he flung himself back down on his bed. "I hate jacking off on my own sheets."

With a grimace, Oliver eyed his bedding suspiciously, and then found himself face first on the mattress as a pair of elbows jabbed at his spine. More laughter followed his abrupt faceplant on the bed as the other boys continued horsing around and throwing their basketball.

Another twelve hours and he'd be waking up and leaving here for a long time. He tried to ignore the little part of his brain that kept peeking in and squeaking out a hopeful "Forever!" because that wouldn't happen. It never had and it wouldn't until he was growth and making his own life, choices, and decisions.

* * *

Oliver's morning started just as abruptly as his evening had ended. Last night the other boys had gotten the terrible idea that learning to hogtie someone was an excellent way to spend their time after dinner. Unfortunately he'd been the one they'd volunteered and, by the time Ms. Stacey arrived for lights out, they'd already hoisted him onto his bed and thrown the blankets over him. He'd spent the majority of the evening struggling out of his binds and finally freed himself after midnight. The other boys had already been snoring and none of them noticed him finally getting up and then tending to the rope burns on his skin.

A splash of frigid water woke him, chilling his face, neck, and drenching his torso and undershirt.

"Waterboard!"

Several open palms slapped at his thick, wet hair before the laughter bubbled up around him and then disappeared. As usual, they'd gotten up early for the expressed purpose of pranking him. It bugged him more than he would ever admit that they got up to torment him but had to be rolled out of bed to get up at the same time for school.

The next hour was rushed for Oliver. He'd already packed his things, but now he had to shower again and figure out what to do with his soaked shirt and bedding. His hair was still dripping down his bare chest when the door creaked open. For half a second, he almost hoped it was one of the boys, back to taunt him, but it was Ms. Stacey's head popping through the opening, a bright smile of her rosy lips.

"Hey, Oliver, the Hummels are– oh _no,_ what happened, sweetie?"

She hurried in with a flurry of motion, bustling over and helping him strip the bedding off while he finished pulling the pillow case free.

"They dumped water on you again?" she asked quietly as the door creaked again. Her hand rubbed over his still damp locks and then adjusted his glasses and checked them for damage. "At least your glasses are okay, sweetheart. I'll have a talk with them– "

"No," Oliver muttered, glancing behind her where the door had opened completely to reveal the little family from the photograph he'd seen a few days ago.

"Oliver, this isn't okay– "

"No," he repeated, his voice firm and low.

The Hummels looked on uncertainly, the men, one slightly taller than the other, framing the small boy before them. He was barely taller than Oliver, with hair just as long but the opposite of his straight, dark locks.

"I– " she shook her head, and Oliver knew she'd still talk to them despite it never doing any good. At least he wouldn't be around for the backlash of it tonight. "Do you have another shirt?"

In response, Oliver heaved his bag onto his cot and started fumbling with the zippers.

"You can have one of mine," a voice said behind him, and Oliver jumped in surprise.

Evan was standing behind him, plucking at the button up he had layered over his t-shirt. It was a nice shirt, nicer than anything Oliver had ever owned, and seemed like it would fit him. He eyed the deep blue fabric warily as Evan shrugged it off and handed it to him.

"Try it on," Evan encouraged, eyes wide and earnest as Blaine and Kurt approached. "It'll look awesome with your eyes, dude. That's why Dad always wants me to wear green."

Oliver hesitated a fraction of a second longer before taking the offered shirt and putting it on. It was nice and incredibly soft, with a denim-like texture; a perfect fit around his shoulders and down his torso. Evan was grinning widely when he looked up. Behind him, Blaine and Kurt were smiling hopefully, too.

"Thanks," Oliver decided to say, feeling both embarrassed and grateful enough to speak.

"Sure thing, kiddo," one of the men said as Ms. Stacey helped him put his backpack on and let them run through introductions.

"I'm Blaine," the man who had just spoken said, offering his hand. Oliver took it and let Blaine shake his arm before Kurt beamed down at him.

"I'm Kurt, and you just met Evan."

Evan have him a little hopeful wave as Ms. Stacey squeezed his shoulders and nudged him a little with her knee.

"O- Oliver," he offered quietly, turning his gaze down from the three sets of bright, excited eyes watching him.

They always looked like that at first. It was just like those little kids that got puppies for Christmas. Everything was excitement and happy barks until the fun wore off and the realization of all the responsibility that came with him set in. Before long they'd be sick of him, too, sick of his closed off silence and liking of solitude. They'd get annoyed with him keeping them at a distance and send him back here for another family to repeat the same process.

"It's very nice to meet you," Kurt said, bending down in front of him and smoothing out his collar. "What do you say to a nice quiet dinner at home tonight? We can watch some movies and just get to know each other while you settle in."

Oliver nodded slowly as Ms. Stacey squeezed his shoulders comfortingly and ushered them all towards the main lobby downstairs. There was some last minute paperwork to be filled out, several pages of information for the Hummels, and the usual list of phone numbers for Oliver in case he felt uncomfortable or scared. After that, Ms. Stacey wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Be good," she murmured against his hair. "Remember what I said," she added. "These are wonderful people, Oliver. Please give them a real chance."

He nodded mutely as she let go and stood up. If he trusted anyone, it was Ms. Stacey, and despite all of his past experiences, he was really starting to believe her words, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Before he knew it, Oliver found himself buckled into the back seat of the Hummels Range Rover with his backpack between his feet and Evan in the seat beside him. Kurt drove them out to the highway and Blaine and Evan spent the first hour of their trip down to Long Island talking soccer, Evan's practice schedule, and about his chances for the making travel team the next year. There were a lot of encouraging smiles aimed his direction, but nobody pushed and Oliver was grateful. New foster parents usually decided to start dragging him into conversations immediately, both out of excitement and wanting to figure him out and if he'd make a decent babysitter for their other kids.

As they crossed into the northeastern corner of Pennsylvania a few hours later, they pulled off for a quick meal at a drive thru and to switch drivers and stretch their legs. Oliver was doing his best to keep his amazement in check because he'd never left New York state before, and even though this was incredibly brief, it was amazing to him to see how different the scenario was becoming as they approached the coast.

When they piled back in, Blaine took over driving and the stereo, playing some pop-punk sounding music, whose lead singer sounded suspiciously familiar. Evan was yawning and patting his stomach full of several Big Macs and doing his best not to fall asleep as Kurt swiveled in his chair and popped open the little storage unit in the floor between Oliver and Evan's seats and pulled a blanket out. With some difficulty, he draped it over Evan, who had dropped off to sleep.

Oliver watched it all with wide, surprised eyes, taking in the gentleness in Kurt's movements and the content, absolute love in his gaze as he tucked his son in. It startled him even more when the same gaze was turned onto him.

Immediately he jerked his gaze to the window and swallowed the hard lump forming in his throat.

"Have you ever been to the coast before?" Kurt asked after several moments of silence.

Eyes still fixed on the scenery flashing past, Oliver shook his head.

"It's quite a change, even from the lakes," Kurt continued. "We grew up in Ohio, and it was one of the first things I did when I moved to New York and Blaine came to visit from his college. We could go to the beach tomorrow, if you'd like. We're not that far from Long Island sound."

Oliver nodded, tentatively flicking his gaze towards Kurt's seat and finding the man watching him with an easy, honest smile. It would be so easy with these three to just trust and let himself open up more. They were all so nice and relaxed, still eager to learn about him and welcome him, but he stubbornly reminded himself that it wasn't going to last. No matter how nice and great they seemed, it would be over before he blinked.

"Great," Kurt said, yawning himself. "There's another blanket if you get sleepy, too," he added kindly, pulling it free and setting it on top of Oliver's bag.

But Oliver had no interest in sleep, even as Kurt dozed off and Blaine continued to drive and tap his fingers to the music. He watched the scenery zooming past his windows, so different the lakes and plateau region he was used to being shuffled around in. As they passed into northern New Jersey, Blaine changed CDs, the music similar to the first, but this time without any vocals. It confused Oliver as he listened and watched, but before long Blaine's voice started floating back to him, singing in the same voice as the lead singer on the previous one.

"That's y– "

He bit off the rest of his question as Blaine's eyes met his in the rearview mirror.

"Yup," Blaine replied with a shrug. "Last one is an older tape, but me and the guys still fool around with recording tracks whenever we get the chance. Lyrics have been slow lately."

"Oh," Oliver muttered, trying to remember what the Hummels file had said about Blaine's career. He had opened a little music shop not too long ago, and had just finished getting some degree so that he could teach. That sounded right to Oliver and made this sudden realization less surprising.

"You play anything?" Blaine asked, eyes still on him in the mirror.

Oliver shook his head firmly. The one time he'd tried, he'd thought either he or the violin was attempting murder.

"If you're ever interested in learning anything," Blaine said smoothly, "I can show you around most instruments, unless it's something really out there, or a tuba. I don't mess with tubas. They weigh too much to be worth the effort."

He waited to see how Blaine would interpret his silence, but there were no uncertain flickering eyes or shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Instead Blaine returned his gaze to the road and started singing softly again, repeating songs until he had the right flow for different lines or had figured out better word choices. Oliver listened to him work between Evan's light snores and Kurt snuffling in the passenger seat. By the time they crossed the state line into New York again, Oliver was starting to yawn, but his first ever glimpse of the ocean and the city was more than enough to keep him awake.

Judging by the fact that they'd somehow ended up on the southern side of the city, Oliver guessed they'd taken a longer route in. He knew enough from his geography studies in school to know that the easiest route would have been cutting northern around the city through the suburbs, but he didn't allow himself to imagine that they'd taken this route just for him to see the ocean. That was absurd.

As they crossed over the bay, Blaine talked him through the places around them and where they were as they passed north into Brooklyn and skirted the lower side of Manhattan before turning due east out to Queens and down Long Island. There wasn't a lot to see after the city, but Oliver's mind was buzzing with all the towering buildings, the glistening sea, and the bridges they'd crossed. As discretely as he could, Oliver slid his journal out and started doodling, trying to capture as much as he could before the memories became too fuzzy and distorted.

It was only when they hit a rough bump on a turn off that Oliver glanced up and found himself on a single lane road carving through a lot of tall, thickly foliaged trees. He caught a street sign as they passed a gravel road – Mountain View Drive. They were here then. This was where he was going to live for the next… however long.

From in front of him, Blaine cleared his throat and turned the stereo off. "Almost there, kiddo," he said. "The bay's about five miles north of us, but we go to the south side of the island most of the time."

Oliver kept his eyes peeled as Blaine turned down into a short road that ended with a round court rimmed with a handful of houses at the end of long drives. He drove straight through to the house directly ahead, but slightly hidden behind several trees and bushes.

"Shake him away," Blaine told him, jerking his head back towards Evan, who grumbled and twisted against his seatbelt as Blaine eased the car into the garage. "He won't mind if you womp him real good."

Oliver thought he actually would mind, but he shook Evan anyway, gently at first and then a little rougher when the other boy only groaned and burrowed under his blanket.

"St-ah-ah-ahp," Evan yawned angrily, swatting at Oliver's hands as Blaine leaned over to wake Kurt up.

Oliver poked him once more, this time in the cheek , and Evan squawked loudly, though when nobody but Oliver jumped he remembered that Evan had Tourette's. Maybe that was one of his tics.

"Wh– _ugh_ , are we home? I'm hungry," Evan mumbled, squinting around at the dark garage they were now in.

"Again?" Blaine cried in disbelief as Kurt grumbled and tried to keep sleeping. "You ate more than the three of us combined a few hours ago."

"Still hungry," Evan deadpanned as he unbuckled himself and climbed out.

Oliver stayed where he was as Evan went around to the back and opened the trunk where several bags where. It was only now that they were here in the early evening that Oliver realized the Hummels must have arrived in Buffalo sometime yesterday since they picked him up early this morning. It was close to an eight hour drive from the Center to here, and the very idea that someone, let alone three someones, had made such a journey for him was unbelievable.

In the front seat Blaine had leaned further over, dotting Kurt's face with little, nipping kisses and Oliver found himself unable to look away from the sight. That was the difference with these two, or at least one of the differences. They were deeply, madly in love, regardless of whatever else was happening or going on and even in that photograph it had been completely obvious that these two men were happiest when they were together.

"All right, _all right_ ," Kurt laughed, finally opening his eyes and accepting a final kiss on the lips. "I'm awake, are you happy?"

"I'll be happier when Evan's stomach stops eating everything edible in the house."

"I heard that!" Evan hollered from the trunk of the Range Rover as he pulled the last bag out and shut the trunk. "You're just jealous that you start getting fat now if you eat too much."

Evan's face appeared in Oliver's open window, tongue poking out as Blaine swatted at him.

The rest of the trip into the house was a continuation of Blaine and Evan bickering playfully, finally ending with Blaine hoisting the boy over his shoulder, plucking his shoes off, and tickling his bare feet until Evan was crying and choking on his laughter.

Oliver followed behind with Kurt at a more subdued pace. It was so bizarre to see a father and son interacting like that, at least for him. The sight wasn't something he was familiar with and it made his stomach twist up oddly until it felt like it was a coiled spring compressed under his heart, waiting for his own moment to start bouncing around.

"Any thoughts on dinner?" Kurt asked him as they watched Evan make a triumphant escape from Blaine's arms, only to be chased out of the room. "Stacey didn't mention what you liked and didn't like to eat, but we have a bit of everything... "

Oliver bit his lip and looked around the enormous kitchen and living room he'd just stepped into. He'd been right about the financial stability. The Hummels house was incredible, fantastically decorated and looked as though it had all the latest updates and newest hardware in their expansive kitchen.

"Do you want to make pizzas?" Kurt offered, setting the duffel bag in his hands down by the couch. "We can pick different sauces and toppings... anything's game for pizza. Then Evan can make his own... or two."

"Okay," Oliver agreed, still letting his eyes roam the walls lined with fancy artwork and picture after picture of Kurt, Blaine, Evan, and a handful of other people he didn't know. He assumed the older man and woman were one set of grandparents, but at a glance he couldn't tell whose they were.

Kurt started setting up all of their pizza making supplies at the counter while Oliver made a tentative lap around the main floor. There was a small dining room that looked clean and mostly unused, a breakfast nook/sun room off the back side of the kitchen that gave an incredible view of the pool, patio, and the wilderness beyond the wooden fence. Then a small bathroom, a few closets, and a little study set off in the far corner, with thick oak doors with several large glass panels fixed in. He didn't dare go into any room that was closed, but he eyed the staircase to the top floor, curiously, wondering when he'd see where he'd be staying while he was here.

He ended up back in the living room, sparing Kurt a uncertain glance before making his way over to the fireplace and the mantle covered in pictures for a better look. There were five in total, one that was clearly from Kurt and Blaine's wedding day, each of them with cake and frosting smeared over their smiles. Another was of Evan with a big soccer trophy in hand, caked in mud and grass stains, and arm in arm with a girl and a boy in uniforms that matched his.

Oliver paused at the other three, the first of which was clearly a family shot with Kurt, Blaine, Evan, and five other people. He didn't recognize any of them, but they were in other portraits around the main floor, except for the baby sitting on the one man's lap. It struck Oliver hard that none of them seemed to be pretending to be happy. They just _were_.

The last two pictures were each of a different woman and small boy. The first was obviously Kurt. There was no mistaking his features and pale skin, despite a smattering of dark freckles and a difference of at least twenty years. The woman hugging him to her side was definitely his mother. They looked almost identical with the same eyes, hair, and skin tone. Even their bone structures were similar.

The second picture held a different young woman, this time with thick, dark curls and a smile almost as wide as the one of the small boy in her lap. The two were seated at a piano, and as he looked closer, Oliver realized the picture had been ripped and taped back together. The boy was clearly younger than Kurt in the other one, but there was no doubt that it was a young Blaine.

Oliver gazed at the last two pictures for a long time, trying to wrap his mind around either of these men ever being small enough to sit on someone's lap or to fit into such tiny clothes. It wasn't until he turned back to the kitchen that he realized that the two women's smiling faces only appeared in just one spot. As he walked back towards the kitchen, he looked at each, seeing the other people in the family portrait, but not them, and wondering what had happened and why their existence almost didn't seem to be real.

Kurt hollered for Blaine and Evan and the four of them set about making their pizzas for dinner. Oliver kept his simple, picking the alfredo sauce Kurt had set out and covering it with mozzarella, peppers, pepperoni and a sausage that Blaine had practically drooled over. Kurt's was easily the healthiest of all of theirs, dotted with pineapple, peppers, just a thin layer of sauce, and a handful of other vegetables. Blaine ended up making what he called a taco pizza, which Evan had warned Oliver not to touch and that had made Kurt frown and berate Blaine for his health choices. Evan ended up making three, one of which was slathered in Sriracha sauce, jalapenos, and several kinds of peppers. It made Oliver's mouth burn just by looking at it.

When it went into the oven, Blaine bent over and stared in at it, clearly expecting the heat of it to combust at any second.

"You're so going to regret that one," he said simply, patting Evan on the shoulder before standing back up and stretching.

"It's better than that _thing_ you call a taco," Evan shot back, sticking his tongue and then ducking Blaine's playful swat.

"Shut your trap and help carry all of this stuff upstairs," Blaine told him, nudging him into the living room where all of their bags had ended up.

Oliver's was set neatly on the floor beside the couch, but the others were slung into a hap hazardous pile, spilling off the couch and onto the floor.

"Grab yours, sweetheart," Kurt said as he helped Blaine untangle two bags. "We'll show you where your room is going to be."

"You're bunking with me!" Evan informed him brightly, grinning as he struggled to get a good grip on the last bag on the floor.

His words alarmed Oliver slightly, because bunk beds were something he'd never wanted to try again – not after the Armstrong's. He'd been on the top bunk, always woken up by the other boy, Frank, kicking his mattress and a good smack against his temple when he shot up and his head met the ceiling.

"I hope that's all right," Kurt said uncertainly. "We weren't sure if you would want to share or not, but it'll take a few days at least to set you up in the guest room if you'd rather be in your own room. The other room's being renovation into a nursery right now, but– "

"Come on!" Evan insisted, and for the first time since he'd met them this morning, Oliver found another hand in his, dragging him along and up the staircase. It was the first physical contact he'd had with any of them, aside from the handshakes, and something about Evans' grip was reassuring.

This boy had been where he was now. He knew and understood what Oliver was thinking and feeling about this first night. At least Oliver assumed he did, and maybe later, when they were getting ready for bed, Evan would give him a real rundown of life with the Hummels. It was a typical first night happenstance as far as foster homes went. The kids who had been their longer would finally corner him, tell him how things really worked, the ins and outs of what to do and not to do, and who, if any one, should be watched out for.

Kurt and Blaine followed at a slightly slower pace as they lugged their bags upstairs and by the time they hit the landing, Evan was already pulling him down the hallway and pushing open a door with a soccer poster on it.

Oliver was quite stunned by the room he found himself in, finding a twin bed straight in front of him, obviously Evan's since it was covered in soccer sheets and a big plushy soccer pillow. The walls were a deep, handsome green and all around Evan's bed were posters, and little shelves full of models and Legos. Directly opposite Evan's bed was another, fitted with plain bedding and surrounded by blank walls, clearly just set up for Oliver since there was a scattered mess of other posters and objects of the built-in desk that curved into the long alcove where three tall windows were.

As he stepped into the symmetrical room, taking in the bookcases and dresser lining the same wall as the door and the plushy purple beanbag chair on the atlas map rug in the open area in the center, Oliver couldn't stop himself from thinking that it was the best room he'd ever had the chance to stay in. He had his own bed, his own _side_ and room to personalize and decorate if he ever wanted to.

"That side's yours," Evan gushed, tossing his own bag onto his rumpled bed and tugging Oliver over. "Dad said we'll go get you cool bedding and posters and clothes and stuff tomorrow, but I took all of my stuff down so this side could be your side."

"It doesn't have to be tomorrow," Kurt's voice called from the doorway as Oliver set bag gingerly on the bed and looked around. "We've got all week, or longer if you want some time to think over color choices to compliment Evan's side or a theme and we can even paint your half a different color– "

"Kurt, I don't think he's going to be as overboard as you– "

"I am _not_ overboard, Blaine Xavier," Kurt snapped waspishly, pursing his lips and pausing to give Blaine a good glare.

"Come on," Blaine muttered, taking Kurt by the hand. "We'll be downstairs, guys. Dinner should be out in about half an hour, okay?"

"Okay!" Evan agreed.

The door was snapped shut behind them and Oliver suddenly found himself alone with his new roommate. He refused to call Evan a foster-brother in his mind. It would just give him expectations for what his life would be like while he was here. He'd learned a long time ago not to mess with those titles or the idea of having a brother.

"There's room in the closet and the top two drawers on the dresser are for you," Evan said into the silence. Oliver watched him flop back onto his bed, bouncing slightly as he hit the springs, but his eyes were trained on Oliver.

Oliver nodded in understanding and turned away, slowly unpacking his few possessions, except for his journal and the baby blanket. He didn't want to be bothered with curious questions right now, not when his mind was buzzing with so many of his own. After ten minutes, his stuff was placed in drawers and he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed that was meant to be his, watching Evan just as intently as Evan was staring at him.

"Ever played soccer?"

Oliver shook his head. He'd never played any sports, but that wasn't because the thought had never crossed his mind. Nobody had ever asked him to or played to do anything with him. The other boys had made him the outcast and he'd taken up the post without much thought. It was easier when they didn't like him. There was no attachment and that made the constant changing of his location easier to deal with.

"Baseball?"

Another negative head shake as Oliver drew his legs up to his chest and hugged them.

"Um… swimming? Or video games? Oh!" Evan hopped up and darted to the bookcase on his side of the dresser and yanked a book from the middle shelf. "Have you ever read Harry Potter? Dad and Papa gave them to me last year and they're really great! Even held my attention, which isn't easy."

Oliver nodded quickly, staring at the slightly worn book in Evan's hands and watching his smile falter a little. He'd read them repeatedly since he first learned to read at a high enough level for them. There were dozens of books he'd checked out of the local libraries and school library time and time again. With nobody to play with or interact with in a friendly manner, he'd spent more time than was probably recommended with his face stuffed inside a book.

"Oh, well… they're one of my favorites," Evan muttered, looking disappointed that Oliver's lips still remained firmly pressed together. He paused for several minutes, and Oliver thought that the disappearance of his grin would finally bring on the rundown he'd been waiting for. He'd get to hear how Evan really felt about living here and what to expect.

"You're really quiet," Evan said abruptly. "Like, they said you didn't talk a lot, but you haven't said anything in _hours_. Does it hurt you throat if you talk too much? Cause I had this bad tic that popped my esophagus out and back in that made it hurt to talk for a while."

For a long moment, Oliver watched Evan fidget and then make the same squawking noise that had punctuated the conversation while they were making dinner. He really was sincere about all of this then. Just a nice, hopeful boy actually looking for Oliver to be his brother. The idea was raw and ill-formed in Oliver's mind, but he bit his lip and decided for once it might not be such a bad idea to speak.

"It doesn't hurt," he mumbled softly, clearly his throat at the scratchy sensation.

Evan perked up at his voice, another large grin slowly spreading across his face at finally making some sort of progress. Oliver fidgeted, tugging at a loose thread on the bedspread as Evan flopped down on his stomach but still watched him. His mind wandered as they each processed this new element that Oliver had just allowed between them. He wasn't doing any harm by being a little friendlier. If anything, talking to Evan would make his time here more pleasant and perhaps even bring it closer to the two year mark than Oliver had been hoping for.

As Evan clicked his fingers in a rapid-fire succession, Oliver looked around for something else to get Evan shooting off at the mouth, and his eyes came to rest on another picture, this time on Evan's night-stand with him and his fathers.

"W- who were the women?" he asked quietly, and when Evan looked baffled, he added, "In the pictures on the mantle. I… they weren't in any of the others."

"Oh," Evan said softly, his gaze and smile dropping. "Those are... well, they're Dad and Papa's moms. They died when they were kids. All of Papa – Blaine's" he clarified at Oliver's confused look "family except his sister are gone. Well, I think his grandfather's still alive but he hasn't seen him since high school."

He'd expected the answer, but it still surprised him to hear it. They were a house of motherless boys, each of them without one for their own reasons. Oliver wondered if the two men downstairs had really replaced whoever Evan had had before them in his heart. It certainly seemed so, but he didn't think the same could ever happen for him. How could they fill in a hole that wasn't defined or named? One that even Oliver couldn't fathom the shape of depth of.

"I get that you're trying to keep a distance with us," Evan added, biting his lip nervously before plowing on. "I've been there. Pa– Blaine's been there. Even Kurt has. Getting hurt sucks and letting people in means that's always a possibility, but Kurt and Blaine? They're so worth it, dude. Just... even if you don't give me a chance or we have nothing in common, please give my dads a real chance."

Oliver was so stunned by the confession and request that he said nothing, but Evan seemed to understand him perfectly. Or something close to it, considering how newly acquainted they were.

"You wouldn't be here right now if they didn't want to adopt you, Oliver," Evan finished with a small shrug. "That's why you're the first kid they've fostered, because whoever comes into our home is someone we all want to stay in our home and be a part of us."

Amazement surged through Oliver for half a second before he tried to squash it down. But Evan's gaze was steady and honest. It was one thing he'd learned in the past twelve hours with the other boy. He was honest and sincere, even to the point of being blunt about whatever he had to say.

"I– really?" Oliver whispered, hating the way his voice trembled as he spoke.

He shouldn't get his hopes up, shouldn't count on these undefined differences he'd noticed with the Hummels being anything worthwhile and true, but here was another boy they'd taken in, one much like himself. Evan was happy and loved, and loved Kurt and Blaine in return. It's what Oliver had always longed for deep down, someone who truly cared, but the thought that this moment was arriving years before he'd ever expected was too much right now.

"Definitely," Evan said simply. "I didn't believe it at first either, but… they're something else." He shook his head with a fond smile. "Sometimes they drive me nuts, yeah, but they're the parents I've always wanted and… they love each other more than I ever thought it was possible to love another person. They've been through a lot, but their love is insane and deep. And they want to give that to you, too, just like they did with me. They _want_ you here," Evan told him. "So do I, even if I can't sleep naked anymore."

Oliver snorted through his disbelief and Evan grinned.

"Boys, the pizzas are ready!"

Evan stood up as Oliver sniffled and hugged his knees a little tighter. It was all so overwhelming to think about, to even fathom that it was a real possibility that if this worked out, he'd finally understand what people meant when they called someone or something home. It was a word he liked to use, because it wasn't something he could honestly say he'd ever experienced.

"You need a minute?" Evan asked from the doorway.

A little shiver ran through Oliver as he nodded. Evan returned the gesture and closed the door, his heavy footfalls stampeding down the stairs and fading away.

Oliver stared around the bedroom again, taking in the little details this time, from the empty fish bowl on the desk where it fit seamlessly against the walls under the window sills, and the random dirty socks Evan had left thrown about. He looked over the posters of various soccer players and the corkboard filled with little photographs of Evan and his teammates and friends.

He eyed the bag still sitting at the foot of his bed and scooped it up. Carefully, Oliver pulled out the baby blanket and the journal, setting the latter on the night-stand and then gently tucking the little blanket under his pillow. It would be safe there, with no worries of being manhandled by a pack of obnoxious boys or shredded while they teased him over it.

A light knock rapped against the door and then Kurt's head popped in tentatively.

"You doing okay? Your pizza's going to get cold."

"Yeah, I'm okay," Oliver replied, taking Kurt by surprise with his voice, but Kurt smiled as widely as Evan had earlier and motioned him towards the hallway.

"Come on then," Kurt told him, holding a hand out. With a last glance at the pillow he'd hidden his blanket under, Oliver hopped up and took Kurt's hand slowly, nervous about the strong, warm grip that closed easily around his small fist.

This could be his home, and maybe he was foolish for even allowing the thought so soon and so suddenly, but everything in this house bubbled over with hope and honesty and unwavering warmth. It was hard not to think anything was possible here, even a family's collective heart loving him enough to keep him.


End file.
